It Started with a Kiss Ch. 02

"Like she's in love with you."

"Clear as always, Pete. That's what I love about you. You're always clarifying things for me."

"Asshole," Pete muttered under his breath.

"Prick," Frank retorted.

As they entered the science wing they looked at each other and cracked up with laughter. If a pal has a go at you and you can't let it slide off your back, then you have absolutely no sense of humor and take life way too seriously.

All day long Frank daydreamed about Monica, and all day long he ached for her touch. From time to time Julie Bowman would walk into his mind and relieve Monica of her command. It seemed that the more he thought about her, the more attractive Julie became. Sure, she was an embittered young girl with a bee in her bonnet, but she also had a mouthwatering body and was as smart as a whip.

At each interchange, when all the students were required to retrieve other books for separate classes, there was Julie Bowman, on her knees below Frank's locker in the position he was so used to finding her in. Each time he would consciously work around her body and each time she would rise with a confused look on her face.

"I don't get it," Pete said. "Why have you suddenly stopped giving that bitch what she deserves?"

The final bell of the day had been rung and the hallway was desolate. Litter lined the linoleum floor and if you listened closely you could hear the soft rattle and buzz from the air conditioner. Pete's words were in light of the fact that Julie had yet again been spared the sensation of his crotch being pressed against her.

"Maybe she isn't such a bitch after all," Frank said.

"Frank...you're turning weird on me. Anyway, are you up for snooker tonight or do you have more important things to do?"

An image of Monica suddenly shimmered behind his eyes and he hardened instantly. They were settling down on the couch to watch a movie and all she was wearing was her flimsy cotton panties and her small Winnie the Pooh t-shirt. This daydream version of Monica cocked her head and told him that she'd be upset if he chose Pete over her, and he really couldn't blame her, either.

"Sorry Pete, I already promised Monica I'd watch a movie with her."

"O-kay, you've certainly got an interesting night ahead of you. We're still on for Saturday, right?"

Saturday was the day of the county fair, which arrived at their quaint little town once a year. It was a long standing tradition for Frank, Pete and the guys – who included Smurf (nicknamed this because of his bizarre fixation with the color blue), Chris Jacobs, Danny Bale and a few other stragglers that changed from year to year – to make a day of the county fair through the haze of an alcohol induced state. Rollercoasters can be ripsnorters if you're under the influence. Last year Smurf sprayed the front of his shirt with vomit, having sampled a little bit too much bourbon before venturing on King Kong's Krazy Rollerkoaster.

"I'll be there," Frank replied absently. All he wanted to do was get away from Pete and get home to Monica.

"Okay then, good. I guess I'll catch you tomorrow," Pete said, then turned and walked down the corridor.

"Yeah, see you, Pete," he replied.

Frank began walking the opposite way and he couldn't help but feel that things had changed somewhat. Maybe Pete sensed something awry but couldn't touch on what it was. That didn't matter now, nothing did except his sister. His primary focus was getting home so he could wrap his arms around Monica and hold on to her as tight as he possibly could.

His feet carried him from the main corridor and out into the quadrangle. A couple were sitting on a wooden bench and were in the middle of a French kiss. It looked sweet and tender, causing a twinge of jealousy to shoot through him as it again became all-too-evident that Monica and him would never have a relationship as normal as that one.

The hot afternoon sun beat down on his back and the kissing couple became ghosts of his past, nothing but wispy fragments of memory that were retreating into the darkened recesses of his mind.

Frank couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so lonely. His shoulders stooped somewhat as he made his journey home, for once wishing that there was someone by his side.

Having a secret that you had to keep hidden from everyone – including your best friend – presented you with a barrier that was erected instantly, separating you from everyone except another person who shared the secret. Things had changed, and it was quite possible that they would never return to normal again.

* * * * *

The difference in air temperature slammed into Frank like a runaway mine cart as he stepped over the threshold and entered his sanctuary from the world. He closed the door quietly after he entered the cool house, making sure that he thumbed the lock so that no prying person could crash their party.

Because the door had been unlocked he could safely assume Monica was home. After he placed his knapsack on its hook he realized that Monica's was there too, which indicated that she was certainly somewhere inside the house.

Sweat dripped from his brow and the back of his hair was plastered to the nape of his neck, care of the intense rays he'd had to endure as he walked home on his lonesome. The soft fabric of his shirt clung to the small of his back, and when he checked, his fingers came away bathed in salty moisture.

Frank stole silently through the house, creeping stealthily down the hallway until he arrived at the point where the narrow passage met the kitchen. Feeling like a member of an elite Special Forces unit, Frank snuck his head around the corner of the door jamb and was greeted with a pleasant view of his sister.

She was standing at the bench, her face contorted into a pretty pout as she attempted to knock some ice cubes out of a plastic tray. A couple finally worked their way out and she beamed at the fallen blocks of water.

His cock began to stiffen as he observed Monica performing this mundane task. Her golden mane of hair was still tied back in a loose ponytail and she'd changed out of her uniform into a pink tank top and a pair of cut-off Levi jeans. The jeans were cut high and when Monica moved out from behind the bench to return the ice cube tray to the freezer, Frank was presented with a pair of creamy, well-toned legs that never seemed to end.

"Hey good lookin'," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Hey yourself."

She grabbed the cubes from the bench top and plopped them into a glass of Diet Coke. As Frank came closer he could hear the soda fizzle and he could see little bubbles shooting away from the rim of the glass.

Wasting no time, not even allowing Monica the chance to sample her cool drink, Frank strode over to her and embraced her with a bear hug. Seconds later his lips found hers and she giggled as his momentum carried her backwards until her backside bumped softly against the edge of the sink.

Monica's hands laced around his sweaty neck and her giggles subsided, replaced by a serious urgency that was illustrated by her no-nonsense attitude when she forced her tongue in between his lips.

They sucked hungrily at each other's mouths and their bodies writhed together like snakes – the miniature hardened reptile between his legs grinding pleasantly against the crotch of her cut-offs. It was a sexy kiss, made steamier by the fact that Monica was dry humping him with quick, hard jerks of her hips.

Cries of delight were being swapped with their saliva and both of them were moaning loudly, too horny and too sexed up to be bothered with coming up for air. Eventually they were panting hard and were so out of breath that they had to stop, or else they would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

Their bodies were still writhing together but they pulled their heads away so they could gaze into one another's eyes. Monica still had her mouth slightly open and her cheeks were puffing each time she had to expel a deep intake of breath.

"Now that's what I call a greeting," Monica marveled.

"Hard to believe it was only twenty-four hours ago that we kissed for the first time."

"Oh my god, it was really only a day ago? It feels like years."

"I know," he said. "This morning seems like eons ago."

"Mom," Monica growled. "How dare she get in the way of our fun."

Frank leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. "But there's no one to get in the way now, is there?"

"Does this mean you'll be taking me to your bedroom?" she asked coyly.

"Yup."

Monica mashed her firm breasts even tighter against his chest and brushed her lips against his. "Will you undress me?"

"Definitely."

Her tongue flicked out and licked his lips. "And then will you fuck me?"

"Yes," Frank moaned softly.

"I've been fantasizing about you all day long," she whispered.

"What sort of fantasies?" he asked.

"The kind filled with sex. I had daydream after daydream and all I wanted to do was play with myself, imagining that you were the one with your hand between my legs."

All this talk about fantasies and daydreams had caused Monica to become even more worked up, the result being a steady, lustful pant as she furiously dry humped his cock.

"Tell me about your daydreams," he groaned.

"Well, one such daydream was of you and me on your big bed, little ol' me lying on my back with you pounding your cock deep into my cunt. Another was of this morning, you grabbing me and bending me over the dining room table, fucking my brains out. My panties were sopping wet by the time I got home."

"Mon..."

"Yes, sweetie?"

If Monica was as horny as Frank was then it was no surprise that she could be so brazen. You reach a point where your level of arousal simply won't permit you to become embarrassed and you may do or say things that aren't typical. With Monica, Frank sensed that it wasn't just her intense arousal, but that it was also because she trusted him and felt comfortable sharing this information.

"Is it possible for you to get any sexier than this?" he asked.

"Hmm, I don't know, but I'm sure you're going to find out."

He clasped his right paw in her left hand and led her towards his bedroom. As they passed the telephone Frank knocked the black handset away from the cradle and kept walking.

"Good idea," Monica said. "We don't want to be interrupted, not this time."

They entered his bedroom and he slammed the door, sliding the silver bolt across until it fit snuggly into its hole, thus locking the door. Nothing was going to prevent them from consummating their love. God himself couldn't stop them. They were on a mission to screw each other and they both needed it mighty bad.

"Are all the doors locked?" he asked.

Monica nodded at him and smiled. "Doors, windows, phone. Check. Nothing can stop us, Franky. You know what? I don't care if mom and dad come home early, they can stand outside the door and listen for all the difference it makes."

She raised her glass of Diet Coke to her lips and took a long sip. Obviously he'd missed the moment she'd plucked it from the bench, probably too engrossed in the thoughts of laying her down on his bed and climbing on top of her.

Her slender throat bobbed as the dark liquid slid down and Frank licked his parched lips. The stifling heat outside had reduced him to wanting to gulp down Diet Coke. What was the world coming to?

"Want some?" she asked.

"If you don't mind."

"Well...what'll you give me for it?"

"How does the best sex of your life sound?"

"I don't know," she teased, "how do I know you're really that good? I might give you the rest of this drink and find out you're bad in bed."

Frank laughed and accepted the glass when Monica held it out to him. The fizzy drink sloshed against his lips and drowned his mouth. His eyes sprang tears when he swallowed too fast and the bubbles tickled his throat, causing him to cough.

Monica took the empty glass from him while he tried to get his coughing fit under control. She placed it on the bedside dresser and then moved into his arms, all soft curves and silky skin.

"Oh Jesus, that tastes bloody awful," he gasped. "How can you like that shit?"

"What, Diet Coke?"

"Yeah, why don't you drink normal Coke? It tastes much better."

She stepped away from his body and grabbed one of his hands, placing it above the waist of her cut-off jeans. His palm lay flat against her pink tank top and he could feel the gentle curve of her stomach. Blinking stupidly, he peered curiously at her, wondering what the heck she was doing.

"See this?" she asked.

"It's your stomach."

"And if I drank regular Coke this would be a big ball of blubber. Do you know how hard it is for me to stay in shape? No? Damn hard. I know I'm not that much to look at," she held a hand up to him when he was going to give a rebuttal, "you keep quiet. Like I was saying, I know I'm not much to look at, but if I were fat then I wouldn't have any chance at hooking a guy."

The world was full of insanity. How the hell could Monica think she was unattractive? Other than that, Frank liked to think that if she did have a few more pounds around the midriff then he would still be as attracted to her as he was now.

"Even if you were bigger, I'd still find you gorgeous," he said honestly.

Monica's mouth tilted into a lopsided smile but it didn't extend to her eyes, which seemed a little sad. "How many overweight girls have you dated?"

He opened his mouth to answer and it snapped shut like a mousetrap. For a brief second he averted his eyes from hers and he ran a hand nervously through his hair. The answer to that question was obvious and rhetorical.

All of the girls he'd dated had been the epitome of the male fantasy. Some had been a little too thin, but you could never call a single one of them overweight. Kathy had been pleasantly rounded, and Monica's physique almost mirrored his ex-girlfriend's. Frank liked curves on a girl, but like most guys there was a point where too much weight began to turn him off.

"I'm not trying to be nasty, Frank," she said, slipping into his arms. "I'm just trying to illustrate a point."

"That you shouldn't drink regular Coke?" he asked with a slight grin.

She smiled and tightened her grip around his waist. "That's right, because I'm a Diet Coke girl."

And that was when the sour mood lifted. A heavy cloak of negativity had been narrowly avoided by a simple and effective joke. The seriousness eked out of her eyes and it was replaced by an enthusiastic glimmer, a sparkle that made his cock leap in his pants.

The humidity in his bedroom had already affected both of them. Frank could feel more droplets of sticky sweat slide down his face and back, giving him another reason for wanting to disrobe and aerate his body. Monica's face was starting to take on a shine and her brow and upper lip were accumulating perspiration of their own.

Moving slowly, he slipped his hands to the bottom of her tank top and grabbed the hemline. Just as he was about to raise it both wrists were stopped in their tracks by Monica's light touch. Her fingers didn't even have to grab hold of him, all she had to do was touch him and that alerted him to the fact she didn't want to advance.

"Why am I the one who has to get undressed first?"

"Why should I?" he offered.

"Because I say so," she grinned.

"Oh, is that a fact, is it?"

"That's right. Girls always get their own way. Why should this be any different?"

"Because...uh..."

Monica started to laugh and he joined in. "You don't even have a comeback, do you?" she giggled. "C'mon, let's get your clothes off. By the time we're naked mom and dad will be getting home."

They had at least a good four hours before that transpired, but she did make a valid point.

"Okay, undress me then," he said, laying his hands at his sides.

"With pleasure."

Skillfully, and much faster than Frank could, Monica unbuttoned his shirt and spread it open, exposing his slick chest. She spun him around on the balls of his feet until his back was to her, peeling the shirt away from his shoulders and sliding it down his muscular arms with efficiency and speed.

Before he could turn around she slid her arms around his waist and ran her hands over his flat stomach. Her body molded into the curve of his spine and he could feel her stiff nipples poking against his skin through her tank top. Something soft grazed against his neck and his skin prickled. It was her lips, kissing him lightly, and then she slid her tongue from her mouth and began licking his warm flesh.

"You have an amazing body," Monica whispered. "You're the hottest guy in school, and you're all mine. I know girls that would give their right ear to be in this position with you."

"Really?" he asked. "I don't suppose you have their phone numbers do you?"

"Smartass," she laughed.

Her hands were caressing his stomach and were sending delightful shivers coursing through his body. Then, in what felt like slow motion, Monica let her fingers dance away from his stomach and waltz down his abdomen, not slowing down until they came across the conspicuous bulge of his crotch.

"I think I might need to unwrap this present you have for me," she breathed, flicking her tongue against his ear.

The only answer he could give was an anguished moan, which grew louder as her slender fingers manipulated his zipper, sending his trousers sliding down his legs. They piled up at his ankles in a rumpled mess and her hands immediately zeroed in on the flimsy fabric of his underwear.

"I thought that diamonds were the hardest substance on earth," she giggled, rubbing at his hard cock with an air of urgency and need.

"Better call Guinness, Mon, I think we've got a new record."

Monica sank to her knees but continued to knead his stiff flesh through his underwear. Then gave him an impatient tug and he realized that she wanted him to turn around. When he faced her she was looking at the protruding bulge with fascination and her pink tongue darted out of her mouth and ran suggestively along her lips.

"I owe you a blowjob," she said, gazing up into his eyes. "Isn't that right, Franky?"

This morning she'd offered him one and he'd turned it down. Now, with her mouth hovering so close that he could feel her hot, moist breath through his underwear, it seemed very unlikely that he would be turning her away on this occasion.

"Yes," he groaned. "You do."

"Don't cum in my mouth though, okay? You promised that your next load would be in my pussy. You shook on it, we had a deal."

"Okay, no cumming, gotcha."

Under careful scrutiny her hands slipped underneath the elastic band of his underwear and pulled outward and downward at the same time. His engorged cock sprang into view and the smile on her face was one of giddy rapture. It was harder than it had ever been and it looked slightly bigger, as if the absence of relief had somehow stretched him longer and slightly wider.

Monica licked her lips again and wrapped one of her delicate hands around him, proceeding to jack him off slowly. With her free hand she helped him step out of his trousers and underwear, then picked them up and tossed them out of the way.

"I just realized something," she said with a peculiar smile. "If anyone ever calls me a cocksucker, I won't be able to deny it."

Nervous laughter erupted out of Frank and she flashed him a sheepish grin.

The way she was stroking him slowly, the sexy look in her eyes and the fact she was still fully clothed – it all made him want to cum all over her pretty face right then and there. There was something incredibly erotic about the way a girl looked while she was still fully clothed and had a cock in her hand. When she put him in her mouth the scene would look infinitely sexier, and he would have to consciously strive to not lose his cool.